Sunday, 2 February 2014


I also finished a story about not-kissing and monsters. It's a love letter to anticipation--to the time in relationships before you ever makeout, when you are still just friends full of electricity. Beginning excerpt:
For two years they didn’t kiss and Sermonette could spell his name with snakes in her sleep. Like a leather glove shaped like a hand even when the hand is not inside, her lips were shaped to his not-kissing them even when he was in another country, even when she was drunk and smeared with another person’s mouth across her own. Not-kissing was as big a part of her day as skin and footsteps and oxygen and moss.
    She couldn’t help it. They were drawn to each other because of the monsters...

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